Switching Sides
by junjoumisaki
Summary: Harry is captured before his fifth year at Hogwarts by Voldemort, who has secret second reason for wanting the Boy-Who-Lived. While in captivity, he is convinced that the Light side isn't as light as it appears, and Decides to join the death eaters by taking the dark mark. Meanwhile, the Dark Lord is scheming on how to get Harry to be his consort.
1. Chapter 1: A Tough Decision

I started writing this a while ago, but I'm just now getting around to posting it on this site. Hope you all enjoy! disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.  
UPDATE: Sorry about any weird lettering appearing in the text, I am having some issues uploading these chapters. I believe I have corrected them, but if you find more please let me know.

"Harry sighed for the umpteenth time. He was unsure how long he had been in this damp, dark prison cell, but he knew it had to have been at least almost a week judging by the meager food he had received. The isolation was starting to get to him. All the food was delivered magically by House Elves so he couldn't speak to them. He couldn't even taunt any Death Eater guards. There was a magical barrier that blocked him from seeing beyond his cell bars, so he couldn't even tell if there were even guards watching him. For all he knew Voldy-Shmoldy could be on the other side of his cell dressed in drag while dancing to the Macarena. Yes, the isolation was definitely getting to him if he just thought of Voldemort dressed in drag.

"For Merlin's sake, just torture me already!" he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the dungeons. "You didn't kidnap me just to watch me go insane inside of a box! And if you did, you are weirder than I originally thought. Who finds pleasure in watching someone walk in a square for three hours?"

"I am not quite sure if 'pleasure' is the correct word, but I do find it humorous to watch you slowly lose your senses. You are yelling at a wall," Harry whipped around at the sound of the rich, deep voice. He was surprised to see a well-dressed, handsome man who looked to be in his early thirties standing in the far corner of the room.

"Who are you," he asked, taking a slightly defensive stance. Though he knew it wouldn't do him any good considering the other man was obviously a wizard; without a wand he was screwed.

The man gave him a mock disappointed look. "I am upset you do not recognize me, my dear Harry. It has been a while since you last saw me like this, but I did not think my appearance would have changed that drastically," he said.

Harry stared harder at the man who had somehow moved closer to him, trying to recall where he had seen that face before. It did look slightly familiar, maybe a few years older… 'He looks a lot like young Tom Riddle' he thought absently. "How!" he exclaimed in horror. "H-How do you look like that!? I destroyed the diary! How? When? H—"

"Do cease your rambling. To answer your question, you only destroyed the container not the soul that was inside. It returned to me, and with it, some of my sanity came back as well. I did another ritual to change my appearance, seeing as how that form would not help draw people to my cause, and this was the result. You should feel honored. You are the first person, other than the few followers I needed to assist me in the ritual, to see me with this new look. Or should I say old?" Voldemort said, chuckling slightly at the last part.

"You tried another ritual after the snake-face fiasco? I'm surprised you didn't come out of this ritual looking like a prune. You are like a hundred years old," Harry commented, his voice laced with sarcasm. Not wanting to acknowledge the part of him that found the Dark Lord attractive.

"Watch your mouth boy!" Voldemort snapped. "I came here to offer you freedom. At a price, of course," he said, in a calmer tone of voice.

Harry was surprised, but quickly covered it with a hard look. "Oh, and what's that price? An unbreakable vow to obey your every word? Sorry, not interested," he said.

"Are you sure? For all you know, you might actually enjoy licking my boots. But," he continued before Harry could snap at him. "That's not my offer. I want you to join my side. Yes, you would take a vow to never harm me magically or in the muggle fashion. You may also be allowed back at Hogwarts so long as you swear to never to mention joining the Dark to your little friends in the light without my permission. Don't want Dumbledore to lock you up, now do we?"

Harry's mouth hung open in shock. Was he serious? Did that idiot actually think that he would accept? Before he could give his anger filled response, Voldemort said, "Wait to give me your answer. I shall give you a week to think it over, and then you can give me your answer. We both know that you are thinking too much like a rash Gryffindor right now to give me a clear answer. I will even help you to make up your mind during the week." And with that he disapparated.

Harry stared at the empty space for what felt like hours contemplating over everything that Voldemort had said. He was right. The first thing Harry was going to say was "Fuck no", which was a very, very Gryffindor type response. He needed to think more like a Slytherin in this kind of situation. What did he mean by 'Help you make up your mind'? Would he torture him? No, the bastard knew that it would only make him say no if he did that. What then? And could he even join with the man that killed his parents? Yes, he could. But should he? That was the question he needed to be asking. The man killed hundreds of people all for fun. Or did he? Dumbledore never gave clear answers, and he knew just how reliable the media could be at publishing the truth. Maybe he should sleep on it. His head was cloudy enough with the lack of food and water to be contemplating all of this. He'd think more about it once he woke up.

The week passed quietly in Harry's dark cell. Every day a letter was brought with his food, and various notes would appear throughout the day, pointing out the faults of the light. Asking him why Dumbledore constantly avoided giving him a clear answer, the media and the wizarding public always going back-n-forth between liking him and not, Ron and Hermione's friendship, there was even a whole letter devoted to just the Dursleys. That one bothered him the most. The more he thought about it, the more confused he got. Even Remus and Sirius had said that Aunt Petunia was horrible, so why did Dumbledore leave him there? Why hadn't he bothered to check on him? And when he first went to the infirmary, surely Madame Promfrey would have noticed his malnutrition and scars. It took him almost the whole week, but eventually he had to accept that the light wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Though he would have to ask Voldemort about the Dark before he even thought about accepting the offer.

He was walking around the cell in thought when Voldemort finally appeared. "Ready to give me an answer?" he asked, admiring Harry's form from where he stood on the other end of the cell.

"Not quite yet," Harry said, casually leaning up against the cold wall behind him. "I agree that the light has faults, but you have yet to show me that the Dark doesn't. Also, you killed my parents, and many others. How do I know you won't kill me at some point as well? What exactly is in this for me if I accept? I will not be just another perishable pawn to you, I want a say in things that happen.

Voldemort's smile could have caused the dead to shiver in fear. This beautiful boy would finally be his. "I always knew you had some Slytherin in you, but I didn't expect this much. I am willing to negotiate with you on your place in my ranks. As for the Dark side having flaws? Yes, there are flaws. But what in this world is completely perfect? I admit I went slightly… irrational for a while, but we will not get into that now. The reason the 'Light side' hates dark magic or what they call dark magic, is because it is difficult to understand and control. They ban any magic that is hard to handle or more difficult to combat 'dark' simply because it would make controlling the masses more challenging. As for the killing of innocent people, those we kill are not innocent. Of course, that is not always true, but this is a war, there is going to be the occasional innocent bystander that dies or a misunderstanding leading to someone's death. In your parents' case, I did not want to kill them, but you know of the prophecy, and—"

Confused, Harry interrupted Voldemort's speech. "What do you mean by 'prophecy'? I don't know of any prophecy."

Voldemort stared at the boy in undisguised shock. "You mean that idiot Dumbledore has not even told you why I attacked you in the first place?" At Harry's head shake, Voldemort swore silently. "Well, there is a prophecy about us. I only know the first two lines: "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies,' it is not much, but I was able to narrow it down to two families. Yours and the Longbottom's. I, obviously, went after you because you were born exactly on the last day of July," he said.

"It said 'power to vanquish' not 'kill', right?" Harry asked. "So that means that I could kill you, but not necessarily would. It sounds self-fulfilling if you ask me, but I've only been taking Divination for two years."

Voldemort looked thoughtful for a couple of minutes. "Perhaps it was…" he said quietly. "Now as for the others I have killed not being innocent," he picked up from where he had left off his explanation earlier. "I target muggles who have abused wizards: parents, uncles, etcetera, and those who have harmed wizards, but escaped justice because they are just 'ignorant muggles who didn't know what they were doing'. Honestly! If one muggle harms another they go to muggle prison, if a wizard harms another wizard or muggle they go to Azkaban or get the Kiss, why is it not the same if a muggle harms a wizard! So, you see I only go after those who have escaped justice. As for the media's take on me 'hating Mudbloods', that's not true. I do want them to be more carefully watched though so that they do not go showing muggles magic, I also want them to join Wizarding society earlier than they do now, and to learn about wizarding traditions. I want our people to celebrate the old holidays and traditions. To name a few: Samhain, Yule, and Beltane, which have practically been made extinct with everyone now celebrating muggle holidays. While I was not- me, I may have let my followers get a little out of line, but it will not be like that now. So, what do you say Harry, will you join me?"

Harry's head was spinning with all this new information. "May… May I have some time to think about it? It's just, that's a lot of new information to take in," he said, after almost ten minutes of silence.

"Of course, Harry. I will expect an answer later today," Voldemort said kindly, apparating from the room with a faint pop.

Harry was surprised by the gentle tone of Voldemort's voice. Never would he have associated the word kind with Voldemort before this. Now he needed to think. It appeared that Dumbledore had hid more from him than he thought. All Dumbledore wanted was a pawn to do his bidding; someone who wouldn't question him, and just do as told. Did Remus and Sirius know about the prophecy? And if so, why didn't they tell him?


	2. Chapter 2: An Acquired Desire

Here's the next chapter. Enjoy! Constructive criticism is welcome.  
Warning: contains swearing. (not really sure that needs a warning since the rating is M, but whatevs)

Voldemort stalked through the dim halls of Riddle Manor, his thoughts occupied by the messy-haired boy in his dungeon. Finally, Harry Potter would be his. When the diary's soul piece returned to him after he had regained his body, he had gained all of the memories that it had. It took time with the memories slowly appearing one by one, but eventually they were all there. At first, he was extremely annoyed at the first-year brat who kept writing about how amazing Harry Potter was, 'Today Harry smiled at me! Do you think he likes me?', 'Harry picked up my book after it fell, isn't he so sweet!' on and on they went. He was wondering if it was possible to curse people in memories, when instead of the girl, Harry wrote in the diary. Interest piqued, he began to pay closer attention to them. He had started to like the boy who was smarter, more cunning, and humorous than anyone really gave him credit for. And when he saw the determination in those Avada Kedavra eyes as he destroyed the book, he knew that he wanted him. It was just the problem of getting him.

It took almost a year before they found where he lived, but had arrived too late. The boy was being whisked away by those pesky Order members. He had given up hope of capturing the boy before next summer, and then the news came: Harry Potter was in Diagon Alley buying school supplies. The Order had made a mistake in letting him go with them. He got into Diagon Alley by covering himself in a thick cloak. By some strange luck he managed to nab the boy as he was walking by himself, and apparated them both to his manor. Apparation was supposedly impossible from inside the Alley, but he wasn't a powerful Dark Lord, and Heir to Slytherin, for nothing.

Since he wanted to woo Harry, he decided to wait until he looked better to talk with him. He knew that his snake-like form was hideous, and that Harry would completely refuse him if he looked that way. So, he spent most of the time since his sanity had returned pouring over old text in search of a way to change his appearance into something more attractive, before he found one that would work. The ritual was a long, complex one to complete, and by the time he completed it, Harry had been in the cells a little over a week.

After speaking to him in person twice without them trying to kill each other, the Dark Lord had to admit that Harry was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined, and was braver, spirited, and more cunning than he had ever thought possible. He would make the perfect consort. Of course, he had not been given an answer yet, but the choice was evident. Now he needed to make more plans.

"Wormtail!" he called, as he entered his office. Just as he was taking his seat behind the Victorian styled desk, the sniveling rat walked in. "Y-You called, M-Master?" he asked, quivering. "Give me your arm."

The fat man bared his marked arm to his lord, and Voldemort seized it roughly. Placing his wand to the mark, Voldemort summoned the Death Eaters that had helped with his ritual before shoving the arm away. "Leave me now. And tell the elves to lead Harry to my office in fifteen minutes," he demanded.

"B-But my Lord, w—" the fat man started.

"Do not question me, Wormtail. Now go!" Voldemort shouted. Just because he had gotten his sanity back did not mean that his temper was gone; he would punish his followers for questioning him. Harry might not like it, but that is something he will just have to deal with.

It was about fifteen minutes later that he heard the faint pops of his followers arriving. One by one they came into the office: Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch Jr, Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband Rodolphus, and his brother Rabastan; each taking a seat, curious as to why they were summoned. "I have captured Harry Potter," he said, smirking happily at their shocked faces.

There were surprised gasps and exclamations, but one remained silent and devoid of emotion. "Severus, are you not pleased? Or perhaps, you already knew that I had him. You do, supposedly, work for the Order, don't you? Tell me, what is Dumbledore planning?" Voldemort said.

Snape nodded. "The Order guessed that you were the one to take him. Dumbledore has everyone who can be spared out searching for him or your manor. I've been ordered by Dumbledore to tell him if you have him or not once I return. If I may ask, how did you capture him?"

Voldemort stared at him hard. "I have begun questioning your loyalties to me, Severus. The boy has no occlumency training so penetrating him mind was as easy as breathing. I can see that you care for him even if he cannot. I wonder if your care for him is stronger than your loyalty to me."

"My Lord, I would nev—" Severus said.

"Of course, you wouldn't," Voldemort said over him. "And I expect you to prove it to me now. I have plans for you and everyone else in this room," he said, looking at each one. "I want you to—" he was interrupted by a light knocking on the ornate, oak door that led into his office. "Come in." When the door opened, six wands were immediately pointed at the skinny, dirty clothed boy in the door way.

"Um, you asked me to come up here just to have your lap dogs point their wands at me? Just a bit of advice, I'm pretty sure that's not how you're supposed to greet guests," Harry said awkwardly, slowly moving to sit in the only empty seat left in the room, next to his professor.

Voldemort chuckled, causing his followers to lower their wands, and stare in shock as the boy sat down. "Put your wands away, and sit down, now," Voldemort said sharply, looking at Harry the whole time.

Everyone hurriedly did as ordered, looking at the Boy-Who-Lived in varying stages of surprise, anger, and distrust. Lucius spoke first. "My Lord, why is he here?"

As Voldemort started to answer, Harry interrupted, "Barty Crouch Jr is still alive? How?" he was staring at his former fake professor in shock and curiosity.

Several of the other's went to reprimand Harry for his rudeness, but Voldemort glared them into silence.

"Do you honestly think I would allow one of my most trust-worthy, and loyal followers to be killed? The Dementors only acted like they gave him the kiss, and safely brought him here to the manor. Yes, Harry, the Dementors work for me," Voldemort answer the unasked question building in the boy's eyes. "To answer your question Lucius, Harry is here because he will be joining the Dark by taking my mark," The room was dead silent before everyone exploded into shouts, trying to be heard over the other.

A loud "Quiet!" was heard over the noise. Everyone stopped yelling, sat and stared in surprise at an angry looking "Savior".

Harry pulled his hands away from his ears, his eyes, a frightening Avada Kedavra green, practically aglow. "You all are worse than teenagers! And I should know considering I am one! I thought Pure-bloods were supposed to behave better than that. And you, Mister Dark Lord, I never said I would join you!" he stopped here to regain his breath, before continuing on in a calmer voice. "I haven't agreed to join you yet, but I am considering it. I've been here for what, two weeks? Of course, I was locked in a dank cell during that time, but Voldemort explained to me the problems with the light side, and how they lie and manipulate people for their own ends. I'm not saying that the Dark doesn't have faults, because it does, but at least you guys are up front about it."

"Of course, Harry," Voldemort said, his gaze on his followers, a promise of future punishment held in it; he was outraged by their lack of decorum. "I apologize for implying that you had already joined. But now that we are on the subject, will you be joining?"

Harry's face took on a contemplative expression. Should he actually say yes? He would be turning his back on everything his parents fought against, everything his friends still fight against. But Dumbledore had lied to him, and too many others, had left him in an abusive household with full knowledge of what went on there, and still did nothing to help. The Dark, according to Voldemort, was very different from what he was led to believe. Voldemort promised he would know what was going on, and have a say in meetings. That was a lot more than Dumbledore ever gave him. Nearly five minutes had passed, with everyone holding their breath in anticipation, before he spoke. "I-I accept," he said quietly.

Voldemort wanted to smile, but managed to keep a neutral expression. "Excellent!" he said, "Well, now that that's done, I can get to the reason as to why I called you all here," he addressed his followers, "Bellatrix, Rabastan, Rodolphus, Harry will need to know about Wizarding traditions, holidays, Pureblood etiquette, and our aims and goals of the war; I want all of you to teach him. He will need new clothes, school supplies, and anything else you believe he might need. Think of him as your child that you wish to spoil." Harry went to interrupt, but Voldemort spoke quickly before he could. "Barty, you will be in charge of teaching him the Dark Arts; I want him to be well versed before school starts."

Again, Harry made to interrupt, but stopped when he realized that made sense. He was joining the Dark; it only made sense for him to learn it.

"Severus, you will be in charge of Harry while you are at Hogwarts. I will be expecting weekly reports on both him and Dumbledore. If something bad happens to Harry, I want to know immediately. Also, you may tell Dumbledore I have him, but because Harry's mind is weak, he will need Occlumency training to stop Dumbledore from finding out the truth when he returns to Hogwarts. You will see to it that his mind is closed enough before school starts to ensure Dumbledore cannot use Legilimency on him," Voldemort said, at Severus' hesitant nod, he continued on to address the last person in the room. "Lucius, I want you to bring Draco, and a few others his age that you trust to keep this a secret, to the manor for Harry to meet. He will need new friends that ar—"

"No, fucking way!" Harry shouted, everyone's eyes looking at him in surprise. "I'm fine with everything else you just said, even if I didn't understand that Occlu-thingy, but I will become friends with some puffed-up peacock who thinks that the world revolves around him."

The room was silent. Lucius' cold mask was shattered as he stared at Harry with a mix of shock and horror on his face. Finally, Bellatrix's high-pitched cackling filled the room. "I like him! Itty bitty Potter made Lucy lose his stony face," she giggled. "Rodolphus, can we buy him some ice cream as a treat?"

Ignoring Bellatrix's mad ramblings and her husband's response, Voldemort addressed Harry sternly. "You need to know people your age that share _your new beliefs_. I will not have you second guessing yourself because of your Dumbledore loving, idiotic Gryffindor friends. They can help teach you about the Dark. Put aside your childish rivalry, and accept that Draco can be of use to you, a stepping stone, if not a friend. Do not forget that you are now one of my Death Eaters, I am not above punishing you for speaking back to me." Secretly, he hoped Harry was smart enough to remain silent because he didn't think he could actually Crucio him.

Harry opened his mouth before closing it right back up, he could see the logic in that statement. Draco may be a giant ass, but he did know a lot about wizarding traditions, and pureblood etiquette. "I can't promise to like him or anyone else that I'm introduced to, but I'll try to be civil. Do _not_ expect anything else from me," he said.

Voldemort nodded in acceptance. "I believe it is time for you to take your oath, and the mark. Severus would you do the honors of overseeing the Unbreakable Vow," he said, taking out Harry's wand from his robe pocket, inwardly smiling at the thought of the new connection that would be made between them. He couldn't wait to see Harry's arm marred with is mark, with his symbol of ownership. He would be completely his. Well, almost; he doubted Harry would join him in bed so quickly, but this was a step in that direction.

Harry knew he looked terrified. He had known this was coming, but now that it was time, he wasn't so sure about it. He breathed deeply before nodding his head resolutely. "Alright, but you can't make it so that I follow your every word, and that I can't at least send a stinging hex at you if you get too annoying," he said, taking hold of his wand, smiling slightly at the comforting feeling he got from holding it again. He placed it in his pocket as he got down on his knees, Voldemort doing the same in front of him.

They grasped their right wrist together, and Severus touched his wands to their clasped hands. "Harry, do you promise to never kill me by any magical or muggle means?" Voldemort said, his voice almost echoing in the silent room.

"I promise," Harry answered dutifully, a red light coming out of Snape's wand to wrap around their hands.

"And do you promise to only send mild hexes, charms and curses at me if you are going to harm me?"

"I promise."

"And do you promise to never tell anyone of your friends, light or otherwise, that you have joined the Dark unless you receive my permission?"

"I promise." And with that a blinding white light filled the room before quickly dissipating. Harry quickly pulled his hand away from Volde- his lord; he would have to get used to calling him that now, wouldn't he? As he stood, he realized he didn't feel any different, but he knew that if he tried to break any of those promises he would end up dead before he could even blink. It didn't go unnoticed that Voldemort actually left a lot of wiggle-room in that oath, he couldn't help but feel a little respect for the amount of trust he was being shown. He had been the guy's enemy only a week ago, so it surprised him that Voldemort actually agreed to let him shoot hexes, and curses, at him. Dumbledore would never have given him that much freedom.

Voldemort was inwardly rejoicing as he stood up. He saw through the emotionless masks on his most loyal followers easily, they were all wondering why he had left so many holes in the oath. It was rather simple: Harry would hate him if he tried to control his life. He wanted a willing consort, someone who will converse and argue with him not some mindless slave. Harry would be the only one he gave liberties to: the only one allowed to call him by his name, the only one allowed to question him, but only in private or maybe with the Inner Circle around; he would have to think on it more. "Hold out your left arm, Harry," he said, holding out his own left hand for Harry to place his arm in.

Hesitantly, Harry placed his arm in Vold- his lord's hand. He knew this was going to hurt, he just knew it. No one got a tattoo without feeling some pain, and this was much more permanent than a simple muggle tattoo. He clenched his teeth as Voldemort hissed the incantation to mark him, but was still unprepared for the pain that washed through him. He clawed at his upper left arm with his right hand, and grunted painfully through his teeth before finally giving in and screaming loud enough to make his ears ring. It felt like hours, but was really only a minute, before the pain stopped.

Voldemort knelt down to where Harry had crumpled after he had let go of his arm. His lip was bleeding from where he had accidently bitten it in his struggle to remain quiet, and his eyes were blurred with tears. He pulled out a bottle of Pain Relief potion and a handkerchief, and gently began to wipe away the blood and tears. "Alright Harry, it is alright. You are stronger than most of my followers, many of them pass out from the pain. Take this, it will help with your suffering," he said kindly, making the others in the room look at him like he had grown another head. He ignored them as he fed Harry the potion.

Shortly after receiving it, Harry felt the potion beginning to work. After about five minutes of whimpering in pain, and wondering why Lord Voldemort was cradling his head, he felt well enough to stand. Slowly, with his Lord's help, he stood up. He still felt a little shaky, but the most bothersome pain was an itching, almost burning sensation on his left arm. He knew it was the mark, but was afraid to look at it. Instead he kept his eyes closed; looking at it would mean that he had to completely accept his new role in life as one of the Dark Lord's followers. He had chosen this, he was the one that decided to join Voldemort, so he was the only one he could blame.

"Harry, open your eyes," surprisingly, it was Snape that said this which is probably the only reason Harry even opened them. "Look at your mark," he said, sounding a little surprised and… worried?

Slowly, Harry looked down expecting to see an ugly black shape marring his arm, but was shocked to see that instead of black, his mark was in color. The skull was a smoky-gray, and the snake's scales were all different shades of dark green. "Wha- Why? Why is mine different?" he asked. Everyone turned their heads towards their Lord, waiting for an answer.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow and said, "You are not a normal Death Eater." He glided over to his desk chair, and took a seat. "You may leave, but I expect you all to coordinate what days you each will be working with Harry. There is only a month left until school begins so you will be starting your training with him tomorrow. Harry, stay here, I have more to discuss with you." The others quickly cleared out of the room with a 'My Lord'. No one noticed Snape giving Harry a concerned glance as he exited.

"Now Harry," Voldemort began once the room was cleared, and Harry had taken the seat right across from him. "I have a few rules you must follow: You are free to roam the manor as you will, but do not open any locked doors and do not go past the wards around the garden, you will know where they are now that you have your mark. Stay out of the dungeons unless you wish to see things you will wish you had not, and you are to come immediately when I call you either by House Elf or through the mark; just because I gave you a special mark does not mean that I will tolerate tardiness from you. I will assign one of my House Elves to help you whenever you need it, do you understand?"

Harry nodded slowly. He was feeling extremely tired and overwhelmed. The pain of receiving the mark, and the weight of everything that had happened was draining him of his energy quickly.

"Hopsy!" Voldemort called. Immediately there was a pop, and a happy looking, female House Elf, clothed in a nice-looking pillowcase with a green ribbon belt, appeared in front of him. "This is Master Harry," he said, nodding in Harry's direction. "You will be in charge of him, and will answer any question he may have. Please, take him to the room I had you prepare earlier."

"Yes Sir! Master Dark Lord! Please bes following Hopsy to yours room, Master Harry!" Hopsy said, happily walking towards the door.

Harry stood up slowly. "Thank you, my Lord. See you in the morning," Harry said, making a conscious effort to call Voldemort by his proper title. Or at least what was his proper title now.

Voldemort's face contorted into a slightly angered expression. Harry was not supposed to think of himself as a lowly follower! "Do not call me that!" he almost shouted, causing Harry to jump in fright. "What- What should I call you then? You made me a Death Eater, isn't that what they call you?" he asked, confused and nervous.

"I also said you were not a normal Death Eater," he said in a calmer voice, realizing his anger was scaring him, and that he had forgotten to mention anything to the boy about how he should address him. "You may call me Voldemort or, when we are in private, Marvolo. But _never_ call me 'my lord' unless we are in an official meeting, understand?"

Still slightly scared, Harry nodded swiftly before following the cheerful house elf out of the office to his new rooms.


	3. Chapter 3: TrainingMisconstrued Answers

I'm so sorry! I had this finished awhile ago, but thought I didn't! I'd been stressing trying to finish this chapter because it'd been awhile since I'd updated it, only to realize I'd been working on the chapter after this one… So, you'll be getting the next chapter by next week most likely. I just need to edit/proof read it.  
Hope you all enjoy!

P.S. Thank you to all who have stuck with me even though I'm horrible at updating.

HPXV

Harry looked around his new room in awe. It was at least three times bigger than his one at the Dursley's. The walls were painted green with white accents, and the bed in the center of the room could fit at least four people comfortably. There was a fireplace with a few chairs and a table in front of it, and a large wardrobe on the other end of the room. Close to the wardrobe was another door that led into a bathroom that had an ornate sink, a bathtub that could fit at least five people, and a large clear glass shower.

"Does Master Harry bes needing anything else from Hopsy," the little elf said, drawing Harry's attention away from looking around the room.

"Um, do you have anything I could change in to?" he asked, looking at his stained and torn clothes. "These are a bit dirty."

"Dark Master has Hopsy take some his old clothes, and fix them to fit Master Harry until yous bes able to gets your own. They bes in the Wardrobe, Master Harry," Hopsy said, walking over to the wardrobe and opening it, allowing Harry to see a few clothes inside.

"Thank you, Hopsy. Um, would you mind getting me something light to eat? I am a bit hungry," he said, pulling out a pair of pajama pants and a night shirt.

"Hopsy bes doing that right away! But nothing too much because Master Harry bes going to sleep soon," she said, before popping out of the room.

Harry shook his head fondly as he began to change. Hopsy reminded him a little of Dobby, but without the hero worship. The thought of Dobby sent a small pang to his heart. He looked down at his unique Dark Mark, what would Dobby think of him now? He had freed the little elf only to go and join with the people that had treated him so badly. No, he couldn't be thinking like that. Dumbledore left him with abusive relatives, and kept important information from him. Dobby would forgive him. Besides, it wasn't like he actually liked the Malfoys. Forcing away the thoughts of the little elf, Harry finished dressing. He walked over to the fireplace and took a seat in one of the over-stuffed chairs, patiently waiting for his food.

Absently, he began to trace the snake on his arm, the touch sending pleasant shivers through him. Curious, he rubbed a little more firmly. He nearly jumped in shocked at the wave of pleasure that coursed through him. Realizing he was becoming aroused, he was filled with shame, and anger. Why was he coming aroused from touching his mark? Did everyone's do that or did Voldemort do that to humiliate or tease him?

His wondering was cut short by Hopsy arriving with his food. The smell reminded him of how hungry he was, and he quickly dived onto the bowl of soup and bread she had brought him. Once he was finished, he dragged himself over to the plush bed, and crawled into it. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

HPXV

It had been two weeks since Harry took the Dark Mark, and during that time he had barely a minute to himself.

Rabastan and Rodolphus were constantly drilling information into him about Wizarding traditions and etiquette. Snape was their every other night to teach him Occlumency, which he was slowly getting a grasp on. He had managed to push his professor out of his head a couple of times already. Barty, during his time at Hogwarts pretending to be Professor Moody, was an excellent teacher, and still was one. He could definitely say that learning Dark Arts was his favorite lesson. Barty, who liked to be called Professor Barty during his lesson, was patient, and wasn't afraid of correcting him or yelling at him if he did something stupid. He was a little nervous because he was starting to think of Barty as that 'cool older brother' that he would hear the other kids at school talk about, and didn't want to disappoint him if he couldn't do a spell correctly. Lucius hadn't introduced him to any of the other dark families at Hogwarts yet, but was planning a get-together (or "Afternoon tea" as Lucius called it) on the weekend.

Harry absolutely enjoyed all of his lessons and teachers, but Harry's favorite person was Bellatrix. She insisted on being called Mama Bella, and was always spoiling him. She took him shopping in Paris for new clothes and school supplies, and bought him an ice cream cone (he was still confused as to why, but wasn't going to complain). She always tried to sit in on Barty's class, and gave pointers when she could, sometimes even showing them spells that neither had heard of before. If he was confused with his homework that the others gave him, she would either help him with it or drag him away to go cause mayhem. If he got hurt, she was right there to heal him and offer encouraging words, and sometimes punish the person who hurt him. She was like a mother, a sister, and a best friend all in one.

The only time he didn't like her was when she went off on wanting to torture muggles and muggleborns. But he didn't hate her too much for it. Rabastan had explained to him that she had been forced to watch as the Longbottom's killed their only child, causing her, already unstable mind, to fall into insanity with grief. He didn't know all the details, but he said that it was something that no one should have had to see or experience. It was one of the reasons why the Dark was so fond of the Killing Curse, because it killed painlessly. Crucio was another matter, but it was rarely ever used to kill anyone.

He had also become a lot closer with Voldemort or Marvolo as he had asked to be called. Marvolo insisted that they eat at least one meal together a day, and frequently asked him to accompany him on walks or to review homework in his study. Harry was a little concerned about his growing crush on the man. Physical attraction could have been dismissed, but now he was starting to like him for other reasons. Like how he conversed with him as a man who knew what he was talking about and not a silly little boy, his dark humor and wit, his cunning, and the way he'd smile when Harry pulled a clever prank on or with Rodolphus and Rabastan. Yep, he was on his way to seriously fall for Marvolo.

At the moment he was on his way to eat dinner with the man. Marvolo had many appointments with different Werewolf packs, Vampire covens, and Veela communities during the early morning till late afternoon, so they decided to have dinner that night in Marvolo's quarters. It was going to be the first time Harry set foot in them which made him a bit nervous; the first person other than Voldy-smouldy himself, actually. He, like the rest of the Death Eaters, didn't know where Marvolo's rooms were. If they wanted to speak with them late at night, they had to send an urgent message or a Patronus. So Marvolo wrote down direction on a charmed piece of paper that would allow only him to read it. The Directions were from the training room to his.

On his way there, Harry thought of things that could go wrong during dinner. What if he spilt or dropped something on the floor? No doubt the House Elves would get it out, but they couldn't get rid of his mortification. It wasn't like they hadn't been eating together for the past two weeks, but they had always eaten in the dining room where people would pop in all the time. Either to eat with them or with information for their Lord, this would be the first time they ever had a "private" dinner together. He was forcing himself not to think of it as a date, but that was becoming harder and harder to do as he got closer to the door.

Eventually, he reached the large dark stained door that lead into Marvolo's rooms. He looked around in surprise, noticing that the door was directly across the hall from his own. 'Well isn't that an odd coincidence,' he thought to himself, wondering why Marvolo had placed their rooms so close together. Everyone else's personal quarters were in a different wing of the manor. Deciding to ask Marvolo during dinner, he knocked a rhythm on the door. "Come in, Harry," came the muffled voice of Marvolo from the other side. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Harry opened the door and stepped inside.

Harry let out a light gasp as he gazed around the elegant room. The floor was a dark-stained wood, and the walls were painted green. The bed, a wooden four-poster in the center of the far wall, sat at on top of a fluffy cream carpet, and was covered with large white pillows on top of a simple, yet elegant, dark green comforter; sheer curtains were tied to the bed posts. There was a fireplace surrounded by a brown leather couch and two chairs, with a coffee table in the middle. There was an open doorway on the other end of the room that led to an equally astonishing bathroom if the glimpse he saw was to be believed. The rest of the furniture seemed to follow the color scheme of the bed and seating area.

"If you are done gaping at my room like a foolish muggle, would you kindly join me for dinner?" Marvolo said, sitting in one of the chairs by the fire suppressing a smile. Harry really was easily amazed. "I cannot answer for you, but my day was a rather tiring one that left me quite hungry."

Harry closed his open mouth, and moved to sit on the couch. He wanted to say something to get rid of the following silence, but found himself tongue-tied, for the first time, around Marvolo. He really shouldn't have been thinking about this being a date on his way up here.

"Cat got your tongue?" Marvolo said lightly, smiling.

"Just surprised you actually have a bedroom. I was starting to think you turned into a bat, and slept on the ceiling in your office," Harry joked back, glad that Marvolo was the first one to break the growing silence.

"I do. I had this room made up while you were at lessons to keep up appearances," Marvolo responded sarcastically.

Harry chuckled lightly. "So, what's for dinner tonight?" he asked, his stomach growling lightly as he spoke. "Barty worked me really hard today. He was teaching me Imperius Curse today since it's apparently the easiest one to learn, but I didn't expect it to be so tiring."

While Harry had been talking, Voldemort had snapped his fingers. Two plates appeared on the table in front of them filled with some colorful salad, which were quickly followed by two bowls of potato and kale soup, and a plate of freshly made baguette. Harry groaned in pleasure at the sight of the food, and began eating. His etiquette training had helped so that he didn't eat like, as Marvolo had called it the first time they ate together, "a starved man at a feast".

Marvolo shifted his legs to hide his growing arousal at the pleasant sound Harry made when he saw the food. Hopefully, he would not have to struggle too much longer. He picked up his own fork, and began to eat as well. After a few minutes of silence, minus the sounds of eating, Marvolo said, "Did you manage to cast the curse successfully?"

"Huh? Yea, I did! I made Lucius transfigure his robes into a women's evening gown, and had him flirt with Barty using horrible pickup lines. You should have seen his face when I canceled the curse," Harry said, his eyes shining with amusement. "I wanted to make him kiss him, but Barty said he would chop off my nuts with a rusty blade if I even attempted it. I was so tempted! But I decided that I needed those more than I needed to see that."

Marvolo let out a light chuckle at the image that Harry presented; he almost wished that he could have seen it. "I am sure Barty appreciated the attention. Speaking of attention, has there been anyone who has caught your eye?" he asked. Might as well make his intentions known now, and take out any possible adversaries he may have.

Harry inhaled sharply, forgetting his had just taken a spoonful of soup, and proceeded to cough harshly. Once the soup was cleared from his airways, he took as drink of water, and stared wide-eyed at the Dark Lord in front of him. "W-Why do you ask?" he said, hoarsely. He couldn't have possibly found out about his crush, could he?

The dark lord saw the slightly panicky look in Harry's eyes, and wondered what could have caused it. Was he in love with someone the he did not think he would approve of or could he perhaps have feelings for him? No, it was most likely the first option. Well of course he was _not_ going to approve! Harry was his! "Just curious, you are an adolescent boy. I am just inquiring as to whom you might have feeling for," he said. "Also, with the way you are acting, it is quite obvious that you do have fond feelings for someone."

"Um, well," Harry whispered. Should he tell him? He would probably get laughed at or maybe thrown out of the room. Best to tell a half-truth instead, Marvolo would be able to tell if he was flat out lying. "There is someone I've taken a liking to."

"May I inquire as to who it might be?" Marvolo said, just managing to keep his voice conversational. A list of followers began to form in his head that Harry could possibly have fallen for. But what if it was someone from Hogwarts?

Harry forced himself to stay relaxed, his mind racing to find a way to evade the question. "Um, well it's a guy. I used to hate him a lot, but he's been spending a lot of time with me while I've been here, and helping me learn," he said, finally settling on being as vague as possible. "He's tall, and has these captivating eyes, and a smile that just makes you want to smile back. I'm going to miss him greatly when I leave."

Well that was delightfully helpful! Harry just managed to describe well over half his followers in a few simple sentences. How was he supposed to know who he was up against in the battle for Harry's affections if the stupid boy would not even give him a name! Now he had to observe him to see who he liked. "It has become late, and I have several meetings tomorrow that require me to be fully aware of my surroundings. I hope dinner was to your liking. I apologize that it was so short, but I really must retire," he said, his voice surprisingly normal. Luckily, he had ended other meals similar to this one, so Harry should not be too curious about the abruptness of it.

"Good night, Marvolo. Sleep well, don't let the bedbugs bite!" Harry said, walking out of the room. Glad to be away from Marvolo's questions. He just hoped that he wouldn't keep asking until he was forced to answer.

Voldemort watched as Harry left his room, closing the door behind himself. Once he was sure Harry was in his rooms, he left to go to his office. He had several meetings he needed to reschedule. Harry was about to get a new observer while he took his lessons.


	4. Chapter 4: What is Jealousy?

**Hope you all enjoy! Comments and constructive criticism welcome! Thank you to the person who pointed out that curse color mistake! It should be fixed now.**

It was two days after their dinner together, and Voldemort was seated in a large wing backed chair watching as Harry again failed to cast a successful Cruciatus Curse. "Why can't I do it?" he heard Harry complained for the umpteenth time. "I am trying to put the intent into it, but it's just not working!"

Getting fed up with the boy's attitude, Voldemort stood. "Obviously you are not trying hard enough. Barty, go help Bellatrix with her task. I will finish today's lesson with Harry," he said, walking over to them.

"Yes, my Lord," Barty said. He gave a Harry a reassuring smile, one that Harry returned, and walked out in search of Bella.

Voldemort wanted to curse Barty when he saw him smile at _his_ Harry, but refrained from doing so. He had spent the last two days watching Harry to see if he could spot the one he was attracted to. Harry had mentioned that it was someone that he was spending quite a bit of time with, which greatly helped limit the possible suspects. He had narrowed it down to: Barty, Rabastan, and two lower class Death Eaters who acted has Harry's guards during meetings. But now was not the time to be dwelling on that anymore. He had gotten rid of Barty, and now it was time to teach.

"You can see sparks when you try which means you are on the right track; you only need to put more emotion behind it. What are you thinking about when you cast the curse?" he says.

"Am I supposed to be thinking about something?" Harry asks, frustration clearly audible in his voice.

Voldemort wasn't fazed by the boy's apparent anger, and instead focused on teaching him the proper way to torture someone. He moved his arms around Harry, adjusting his posture and hold on his wand. He relished in the fact that Harry was blushing, moving his hand to rest on the boy's hip under the pretense of "fixing his stance".

"Like with the Imperius Curse," he said, going into teacher mode, "you need to want it. You need to desire to see them pain."

Harry grimaced, looking at the grimy man lying on the floor at the other end of the room. "But I don't want to cause them pain. How am I supposed to hurt someone if they haven't done anything?" he said, a small gasp leaving his lips when Voldemort's fingers tightened on his hip. Whether it was from pain or pleasure, he couldn't tell.

Voldemort felt his temper flair briefly before quickly stifling it out. He needed patience when dealing with Harry. He was raised by the light, and still held onto a lot of their supposed "ideals".

"Close your eyes," he demanded.

Harry shivered slightly as he felt Voldemort's breath caress his ear, but did as told, eye lids fluttering shut.

Voldemort reluctantly stepped away from the tempting body, moving across the training room floor. "Do not move, Harry." He demanded before apparating away.

Harry startled slightly when Voldemort popped back into the room. There was the sound of something falling to the floor and muffled screaming. Curiosity got the best of him and he opened his eyes. In front of him lay the last person he wanted to see, and wasn't that a surprise considering Voldemort's (the man he wanted to kill less than a month ago) arms had just returned to their previous position around his waist, causing him to shiver. Though, he wasn't sure if it was from the pleasure of having the man's arms around him or from fear of the man that lay in front of him.

"I captured him as a gift for you," he whispered into Harry's ear, smiling when he felt the small frame in his arms shiver, "I planned on torturing him myself for a while longer, but I think you deserve to have the pleasure of seeing someone you hate writhe in pain the first time you use the Cruciatus Curse properly."

Harry stared into the angry eyes of Uncle Vernon. He was confused. He thought he should feel compassion, maybe ask Voldemort to release him, but all he felt was satisfaction. His uncle was finally getting what was coming to him, and it would be delivered by his hand.

Harry nodded once to acknowledge that he'd heard, and accepted his gift. He took on the stance Voldemort had moved him into earlier. Aimed his wand at his purple faced uncle, he recalled all the times the man had beat, belittled and mocked him, "Crucio," he said, his voice quiet with suppressed rage.

The red light struck his uncle mid-chest; causing the man to writhe on the ground like a beached whale while his muffled screams to reach a new pitch.

The man the curse was originally meant for, curled up into a ball, completely unnoticed by either of the wizards, in the corner of the room, sobbing and thanking the lord that it wasn't him screaming in pain.

Voldemort moved the boy's arm after a full minute, breaking the curse's hold. Harry's eyes were aglow, and his form shaking with the adrenaline rush that the use of powerful magic caused. It took all of his will power for him to not pull Harry into a crushing kiss.

"That feeling, of finally getting vengeance, remember it, Harry," He said, moving away from the temptation that was known as the-boy-who-lived, and snapping his fingers for a house elf to take the still quivering body of Vernon Dursley back to the dungeons. He made his way to the door, but stopped briefly before he stepped out of the room, stating "I am proud of the progress you have made."

Harry felt like he was on cloud nine. Marvolo just praised him! He wandered out of the training room in a daze not caring where he ended up.

"Ow!" Harry exclaimed as he fell onto the floor.

"I apologize, Harry, I didn't see you there," Rabastan said, offering a hand to the fallen boy. "Though, you did appear to be lost in thought yourself."

Harry shook away the last dregs of his happy daze as he allowed Rabastan to help him to his feet. "It's alright, it was partially my fault for not paying attention to my surroundings," he said, giving the man a small smile. "Where were you headed off to?"

Rabastan returned the smile. It was almost impossible not to smile back at the boy, his smiles were infectious. "The library," he said, gesturing to the book that was held in his other hand, "I finished this one last night, and require a new one."

"Oh," Harry said, moving in the direction of the library, "What's it about?"

Rabastan smirked, falling in step with the younger man. Harry was an attractive boy, with a more feminine frame, who would only get more beautiful as he aged. Being the second son, who he married didn't matter as much, and Harry's half-blood status could easily be ignored. The interest his Lord payed the boy, his magical power levels, and him being the last heir to the Potter fortune made him an especially desirable partner for most of the unwed Death Eaters that knew of his existence among their ranks.

"It's a book on advanced Arithmancy." He chuckled at the grimace Harry made at the mention of the subject. "I admit it's a bit of a boring subject, but I'm good at it. Keep this between us, but I was a bit of a bookworm during my school years," he said in a conspiratorial tone, leaning close to him, and giving the boy a wink as he pulled away.

Harry laughed at his antics. "Well, you nerd, we'll have to go get you another book for you to read," he said jokingly, pushing open the library doors.

Rabastan stopped, confused. "What's a 'nerd'?"

Harry tilted his head at Rabastan's confused face before understanding why he didn't know the expression. "Sorry, it's a muggle term," he said, hoping Rabastan wouldn't be too angry at him for using a "horrid muggle expression" on him, "it basically just means you like to study."

Rabastan scowled at having a muggle term applied to him. "Damn muggles… Let's stick with 'Bookworm'," he said gruffly.

Harry's felt like there was a rock compressing his internal organs. Why did he have to ruin the mood? He was trying to come up with a good excuse to escape the oppressive atmosphere, when Rabastan interrupted his thoughts.

"Would you like to read with me?" he asked. "I'd enjoy the company. If you're unsure of what to read, I could recommend something for you?"

Harry smiled a little at that. He knew Rabastan was trying to let him know he wasn't too upset with him, and still wished for his company. "Alright, but fair warning, all school subjects aside from defense, charms, and dark arts bore me to death," he said, moving further into the room.

"I'll keep that in mind," Rabastan said, laughing lightly, dragging Harry over to the dark arts section of the expansive library.

vvvvvvv

Voldemort had been looking for Harry for over twenty minutes. The boy was supposed to meet him in the dining room for dinner, before rejoining to his chambers for a small glass of wine while they discussed his progress, but he'd never shown.

He'd checked all of Harry's usual haunts, finding nothing. Frustrated, he headed for the last place he would likely be, the library.

As he approached the door, Harry's melodious laughter reached his ears. Frowning, he cracked the door open slightly, and peered inside. He easily spotted Harry seated on one of the many arm chairs, bent over in laughter while Rabastan smiled at him.

"It's true!" Voldemort heard Rabastan say with mock indignation, causing Harry to laugh harder.

Possessive anger burned deep in Voldemort's chest as he watches one of his most trusted lieutenant's flirt shamelessly with his Harry. Luckily, it appeared that Harry had no idea he was being flirted with, otherwise he might have had to push his plans forward, and punish him for allowing himself to be seduced so easily.

Deciding he's seen more than he need, he shoved the double doors open with enough force that they banged loudly against the walls, causing Harry to jump and Rabastan to pull out his wand, ready to attack.

"My Lord," Rabastan said, swiftly putting his wand back into its holster, rising to his feet to bow.

Harry followed at a more sedate pace, wondering why Voldemort seemed so angry.

Voldemort glared at Rabastan. He desperately wanted to kill the man for his infraction, even though he knew Rabastan had no idea he was making a mistake by flirting with the boy, but knew he could not. Instead, he decided to give the man a hint, and if he didn't take it, well, then no one could blame him for punishing the man.

"I had no idea you two were so close," he said, deceptively calm, eyes glaring holes into Rabastan's own.

Rabastan paled. "We—," he stopped to clear his throat, "we just got to talking, my Lord. We haven't spent much time together outside of lessons before today."

"I see," was his response, voice still too calm sounding. "You are dismissed, Rabastan, I will speak to you in the morning. Be in my office by eight, and I suggest you keep our future discussion topic to yourself until then."

"Yes, My Lord," the man said, before making a hasty escape.

Harry looked on in confusion as Rabastan fled the room. Suddenly, his vision was filled with black robes. His head was harshly jerked upwards. Angry, red eyes glared into his own, making the confused boy afraid.

"Whom do you belong to, Harry?" he asked, voice deceptively calm, as he stroked his thumb along the boy's jaw that was clasped tightly within his hand.

"You, Marvolo," Harry whispered, after a few second of frantic thinking, too afraid to raise his voice any higher.

Voldemort nodded once in recognition, yet kept Harry's jaw captive.

"Is he the object of your affections?"

Harry stared up at Marvolo in bewilderment. How did he come to that conclusion? Sure, he and Rabastan had been sharing a couch and talking, but none of that meant that he liked him! Rabastan was nice, good-looking, and funny, but he had nothing on the man who was currently bruising his jaw. Now that he thought about it, was it sane to have a crush on the guy who killed your parents, and who was currently trying to dislocate his face? Before he could contemplate that further, said man's voice cut through his train of thought.

"Shall I take your silence as confirmation?"

"What? No! I don't like Rabastan like that!" Harry said, hurriedly, shaking his head as much as he could.

Voldemort released Harry's jaw, and took a step back. Feeling a small jab of… something, in his chest, when he noticed a bruise forming along his jawline, but decided to worry about that later.

Harry desperately wanted to reach up to rub his jaw, but was afraid that, if he moved, he'd set the man off again. So, he stood still, watching the thoughtful looking dark lord in front of him.

"You swear that he holds none of your affections?" Voldemort asked again, needing the confirmation.

Harry quickly nodded his head. Then, realizing that could be misinterpreted, said, "I honestly don't like him in that way."

Voldemort contemplated this for a moment, before nodding, and walking out of the room. Leaving a confused, bruised Harry behind.

**Now sure when I'll be updating this work next, but it will not be abandoned!**


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